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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147913">Never Mind That Moaning In The Halls, There's No Such Thing As Ghosts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemWrites/pseuds/RemWrites'>RemWrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Leon Gets Stepped On Exactly Once, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Whipping, sorry leon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:54:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemWrites/pseuds/RemWrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon gets sent to Castle Dimitrescu and of course, he gets caught.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Never Mind That Moaning In The Halls, There's No Such Thing As Ghosts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ooops.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stone was cold beneath Leon's knees, his black jeans torn from falling down the frozen stairs when he had been shoved through the open door, tumbling down into the dark dungeon. That's what this was, wasn't it? A dungeon. Beneath a castle. Out in the middle of the wintery nowhere. And Leon was here on a mission that seemed impossible now, forced to his knees with his frozen hands tied too tight behind his back. This time, instead of stumbling upon a lab full of stainless steel needles and ominous serums that could and would ruin lives, there were chains on the walls and an array of sharp, rusted tools that made Leon nervous in ways he had never been before. He'd never been truly tortured, and he really didn't want to add it to his already long list of concerning traumas.</p><p>Heaving in a ragged breath that made his ribs ache and rattled his lungs, Leon wasn't surprised everything had gone wrong. But, despite this expectation, he <em>was</em> relatively concerned now about his own well being for once. It was rare for him to feel vulnerable on a mission, but-</p><p>His breath left him in a gentle white cloud, the chill making him shiver; it was definitely not a tremble, he wasn't scared, and he certainly wasn't fighting post-trauma triggers either. Maybe he <em>should have</em> sat this mission out like Hunnigan had wanted him too.</p><p>
  <em>Why the hell am I so stubborn?</em>
</p><p>The only light in the dank dungeon flickered from a lit sconce on the wall down the curved hall, shadows dancing menacingly like zombies shuffling through the night. He'd been dragged cursing and kicking through the hall by his hair, blood and hay staining his knees every time he'd gone down, his limited vision catching hints of mutilated bodies and fresh blood. The mildly annoyed Lady standing before him cast a massive shadow over him in what had been deemed <em>his</em> cell, leaving him short of breath for other reasons besides the lashes he had just received to his back. If memory served him right, the woman was taller than the Tyrant back in the RPD, more intent on playing with her food rather than just outright eliminating the witnesses. Her height wasn't what intimidated him, though, it was the black whip in her hands glittering in the faint light – out of all the toys she could have picked – and the way she smiled at him, fully coherent, not a trace of the usual Umbrella madness to be found. While she had obviously been subjected to something Umbrella-related, her humanity was what really made Leon worry.</p><p>“I asked you a question, little one.” Lady Dimitrescu said gently like she was scolding a new puppy. She leaned forward, the handle of the bullwhip nudging Leon beneath his chin and tilting his gaze up to her. She'd already whipped him twice, the sting still sharp against his shoulder blades. The second lash had left his head spinning, the edges of his vision turning white. He wasn't sure how many more he could handle.</p><p>He locked his gaze with hers, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring as she slid the handle of the whip dangerously down the front of his throat. She pushed aside the collar of his dirty dress-shirt before lightly tracing the jumping vein back up the side of his neck. She had been ogling him ever since she had first laid eyes on him and not for his looks, rather for the rapid pulse throbbing beneath his skin.</p><p>Amused golden eyes glowed in the darkness, a chill shuddering down Leon's spine. He had thought he'd caught the flash of long canines earlier, but he couldn't be sure. Didn't want to be sure. Leon kept his mouth shut. He wouldn't tell her why he was here or who he came for. If she didn't kill him for it, his employer would anyway. It was a lose-lose situation regardless.</p><p>“Even the stubborn dogs learn to sit.” Lady Dimitrescu said after a moment of silence, taking the whip back and snapping it out to the side. It cracked against the stone like the clap of thunder that could and would shake the earth. Leon flinched violently, head ducking slightly to the side. Grenades and flash-bangs went off in his head before his gaze flickered up to the Lady, his mouth still firmly shut.</p><p>Lady Dimitrescu grinned, white teeth bared behind bright red lipstick, before she aggressively stepped into Leon's space, the gentle sway of her silk dress audible with how close she was. She suddenly raised her foot, the heel of her riding boot slamming into Leon's chest and sending him down to the cold stone with a gasp. He managed not to clobber his head off the stone, but the wave of pain shooting up his back left him blind.</p><p>Flat on his fresh injuries, Leon gasped, back trying to arch off the cold floor, the boot grinding down into his chest just enough to hurt but not hard enough to break his bones. The whip snapped against the stone beside him once again, a full body flinch forcing him to turn his head away with a whimper. He was panting, his lungs burning from the chill as he shuddered beneath her.</p><p>“I asked what you came here for.” Lady Dimitrescu asked, her tone losing the honeyed patience she'd had for the past half hour. She suddenly sounded like a predator, and judging from the daughters Leon had briefly met earlier, the Lady was rather motivated by blood. If Leon didn't start talking, he worried the Lady would just eat him right then and there.</p><p>
  <em>At least it's not a bad way to go?</em>
</p><p>Leon laughed nervously, making direct eye contact. It was all he had to defend himself. “And I told you I was lost. Don't you listen?”</p><p>Lady Dimitrescu smiled, blood red lips splitting to bare teeth and fangs, head tilting to the side as she slowly removed her foot. With one hand high on her hip, the bullwhip suddenly snapped down across the front of Leon's thighs with the easy flick of her wrist, tearing through his jeans and leaving behind matching welts. Leon's voice echoed off the walls as he arched off the floor once again.</p><p>
  <em>Just look on the bright side. At least in eight hours Hunnigan will send in backup.</em>
</p>
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